The Nitpicker

Welcome to The Nitpicker.
Jason Kessler loves to complain almost as much as he loves to eat. Join him on his journey through the imperfect universe of food.

(Credit: Erik Peterson)

Since I spent my last column complaining about the perils of takeout, I think it only makes sense to follow it up with a diatribe on delivery. Is there a greater convenience than having food delivered to your house? I don’t think so. On a rainy night with nothing in the fridge besides mustard and pickles, it’s incredible that you can just pick up the phone and order some pad thai. No need to get dressed, no need to get into your car–just a simple phone call and a full meal shows up at your door. But what happens when the food never comes? You wind up in delivery purgatory, and that’s a terrible place to be.

In 1973, Domino’s Pizza started offering guaranteed delivery in 30 minutes or less. It became a hallmark of the company and instilled in our heads the idea that deliveries should get to you quickly. That guarantee is gone, thanks to massive lawsuits stemming from delivery drivers causing accidents as they raced to get you your pizza, but the idea remains. We think that we’re entitled to get our food in a certain amount of time. That doesn’t mean it actually happens, though.

A few weeks back, I was craving some eggplant parmesan. Procuring the ingredients and cooking would have taken way too long, so I was left with three options: takeout, delivery, or starvation. I went with Door #2. A new casual Italian place had just opened up nearby and I wanted to give them a shot, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity. It was 5 p.m. on a Sunday; early by pretty much everyone’s standards. I figured my food would arrive quickly, my hunger would disappear, and I could get to work depleting my DVR. When I placed my order, I was told my food would arrive within 45 minutes. And that’s when the lies began.

After an hour of waiting, I called back to check on my order. They were extremely sorry and claimed they got slammed by a bunch of orders all at once. They said it should just be a few more minutes and I would be happily enjoying my fried nightshade in no time. No problem. I’ve worked in places exactly like the one from which I ordered. You get busy, orders get backed up, I get it. Then another 30 minutes passed. I suddenly realized that I was dealing with people who had a loose grasp on the concept of truth.

I called again. “It’s not there yet? You’re kidding me! The driver left a while ago!” Lies, lies, lies. When the driver finally arrived, my food was cold and I was furious. To make matters worse, I looked at the receipt stapled to the bag and saw that it had been printed a mere 15 minutes prior. This was not a driver who’d gone rogue with my eggplant parm. This was a restaurant that screwed up and failed to admit its mistake.

There’s an implicit trust that comes when you order delivery. They tell you a time to expect your food, you accept that time and wait for your food. When that social contract is broken, though, you have no choice but to feel betrayed. I don’t expect my food to arrive so quickly that people get hurt along the way, but I do expect it to arrive in less time than it would take for me to make the entire meal from scratch. If it’s taking way too long, then it’s on the restaurant to let me know what’s happening and it’s on them to make sure I’m okay with that. In this case, a new restaurant lost a new customer, and that’s a shame for all parties involved. Looks like I’ll be making my own eggplant parmesan from now on. And that’s an even bigger shame.

Based in Los Angeles, Jason Kessler has written for television shows such as NBC’s The Office, True Jackson, VP on Nickelodeon, and The MTV Movie Awards. Photo by Matt Armendariz.